If My Heart Could See You

by , Sherry Ewing

  “’Tis not easy,” she said quietly, looking around and hoping that none of the guards overheard their words.

  “It never is, milady,” he said sadly.

  “I canna help how I have come to care for him, Killian,” she remarked shyly.

  “Yer father wouldna approve ye share his bed without so much o’ at least a simple ’and fasting. Nor do I, if’n that matters tae ye,” he grumbled.

  “Lord Dristan does not seem the type who would honor such a Scottish tradition of hand fasting.” Embarrassed that all knew she had become no better than one of the castle whores, she began to wring her hands. “You are right that my father would not be pleased, nor my mother I suppose. All the time repenting on my knees in the chapel will not erase the mark and sin against my soul.”

  Killian patted her shoulder. “God is forgivin’ child . . . ’twas not yer fault I’m sure.”

  Amiria shook her head, knowing she could not pass a lie to the man next to her. “Mayhap my parents and God will forgive me if they watch over me from the heavens above,” she pondered and continued hopefully. “He has said he will take me to wife when I am well.”

  “Ye seem fine tae me, Amiria, and from the looks o’ things, ye dress tae catch ’is eye.”

  She shrugged off his comments but dismay again shook her confidence in her choice of dressing so obviously feminine. She placed her hands upon the gown as if to ensure the fabric was not creased. “He has been busy with training and seeing to the land and our people.”

  “Aye, ’e ’as at that but thar’s still been plenty o’ time tae see the priest and wed thee. I feel ’tis me duty since yer da isna wid us to take ’is place to see ye properly settled,” he said with a fatherly tone.

  Amiria smiled at his words and rested a hand on his folded arm whilst gazing up into his familiar face. “I give you my thanks for watching over us all these years. You knew my father better than anyone and were his most trusted friend and valued guardsman.” She stared into his kind blue eyes and stifled the urge to weep upon his broad shoulders. “You remind me so very much of him,” she sighed with a small catch in her voice from her loss.

  “I couldna do anything less, child,” he replied with a note of regret.

  “I suppose I must resign myself to the fact that Aiden has passed from this earth. I must needs pray his soul rests in peace and is not destined to roam the earth with unfinished business.”

  Silence stretched on between them. They watched the drawbridge and portcullis being lowered to allow the returning men to enter the inner bailey. The procession was long and ’twas certain Dristan would bring up the rear. Amiria’s brow furrowed in concern by the events unfolding afore her gaze. Chaos turned the once silent courtyard into a hectic sea of bodies bumping into one another to aid those in need. Knights dismounted hastily, horses whinnied and nickered as they were being taken by eager stable lads, and voices rose in volume calling for aid from Kenna.

  With a brief glance to one another, they quickly made their way to the tower stairs and upon reaching the Great Hall, moved with haste to see what help was needed. Amiria threw open the doors, stood on the stairs, and awaited one man in particular’s attention to turn in her direction.

  Killian put his hand up in greeting to their liege that was quickly answered in kind. Amiria took the rest of the stairs, pulling up the hem of her dress as she ran towards the one whom she sought in earnest. As Dristan dismounted, she went to stand beside Thor and rested a hand upon his neck. She gave the briefest of smiles ’til Dristan finally met her gaze. He looked down at her grimly, but did not return the welcoming she had hoped for. He simply stood there, giving her the slightest of nods, afore he took his leave of her and entered the keep.

  Amiria stared blankly at the ground in front of her, her brows together in thought. She turned her head, the wind catching her hair, and looked after him only to hear the slamming of the keep door. Confusion ran wild within her head ’til she realized there was more commotion in the bailey requiring her attention. Her men formed a half circle whilst Kenna rushed to the man lying upon the ground. She turned to see Ian standing only a few feet away, looking grim, and quickly made her way to his side.

  “What has happened, Ian?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

  “The village was burnt, everyone murdered,” he replied quietly. He watched her closely whilst she covered her mouth with her hand. “There is more Amiria . . . ” he began only to have his words cut off by a scream as she caught the sight of Devon.

  She ran over and fell to her knees beside him. Grabbing his hand, she leaned over him and noticed his blue eyes staring up into the sky, his breathing eerily shallow. With a look from Kenna, Amiria sadly knew there was nothing her healer could do for Devon. There was no point in halting her from attending Geoffrey where she could do some good.

  “Oh, my dear friend,” she whispered with a small anguished cry.

  Her words seemed to penetrate his mind in recognition, for Devon turned his head to gaze at her. She took his hand and wiped the hair from his face and watched as a small trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth.

  “I-I wish it w-wasna like th-this, my l-lady,” he sputtered.

  “Shh. Be quiet now, Devon,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “All will be well, you shall see.”

  “At least I made it home tae see ye if only fer one last time,” he breathed.

  Amiria could not suppress the tears that escaped at his words. “You have done well as my guardsman, Devon, and also served my father well.”

  Devon gave a small smile in satisfaction at her words. “I w-would ‘ave s-served ye forever, milady,” he said ever so quietly. His eyes fluttered but once afore he gave his last breath, staring at her now through sightless eyes.

  Sobs shook Amiria to her very core as she grieved over her guardsman. “Oh, Devon, my dear, dear friend. May God keep you safe. I pray you are in a better place.” She brought his hand to her lips and placed a kiss upon its back afore letting go. Quickly she turned away from the sight of his skin becoming an ashen grey. She would not remember Devon this way but alive with life.

  Ian held down his hand for her and she took it. He gently pulled her into his arms, as she wept her sorrow. He continued murmuring words of comfort for her ears alone. He caressed her hair and in the back of her mind, Amiria kept the knowledge that this would be the one and only time Ian would ever hold her this close again. She continued her weeping not only for Devon’s death, but also for the feelings she had once felt for this man, who only wanted her to love him. She felt his arms tighten around her protectively whilst his lips brushed her forehead in a fleeting kiss.

  “Hush now, Amiria. Dinnae fash yourself, lass. Our Devon wouldna wish tae see you so overwrought,” he spoke calmly to her in such a loving tone.

  She shuttered at his words as reality slammed her back to the present. Drawing back from him, she was remiss that she had let her emotions get the best of her whilst everyone watched her every move. Where once afore stood a woman frail with regret, now stood a woman of determination. After all, she was a warrior at heart and had no time for such foolishness like falling in love or showing signs of weakness.

  Amiria called to Garrick, who once more took up his pipes and played a tune that had unfortunately become all too familiar in the past few months. Everyone halted in their duties and bowed their heads in sadness for a boy who had barely known manhood afore he had become an honored guard of the MacLaren clan.

  She watched as Ian took up the detail to see that Devon’s body would be laid to rest. She nodded only once to him afore she walked silently into the keep. None stopped her in her misery and she trudged up the flight of stairs to her chamber with a heavy heart.

  There was no mistaking the distinct sound of the slamming of neither her door nor the bolt being shoved harshly into place. The sound of her weeping far into the night tore at the hearts of those who cared for her most, and they could only wonder if their mistress would ev
er be the same again.

  Twenty-six

  For a full se’nnight, Amiria had chosen to remain enclosed within her chamber, no doubt coming to grips with the death of her guardsman. She refused to admit Dristan, or anyone else for that matter, into her self-imposed sanctuary, nor did she descend below to the Great Hall to break her fast in his presence. ’Twas apparent she felt Devon’s death was his fault, although she, as much as anyone, should know that death is the price one must pay for the cost of war, securing of lands, and protecting one’s people.

  His patience at an end, Dristan climbed the spiral stone stairs and made his way along the passageway towards her chamber. He was not surprised to see her captain standing guard at her door as if some harm might befall her whilst she resided inside her room. He glanced at Ian and felt a hint of jealousy rear its ugly head, causing a mighty scowl to appear on his brow. Aye, he had been told how Ian had held Amiria within his arms and Dristan’s irritation with that small measure of knowledge caused his temper to rise with each step he took.

  Dristan strode to stand afore Ian, who looked him in the eye. Was that perchance a hint of anger or arrogance he saw mixed within the younger man’s hazel eyes?

  “My lord,” Ian said with a slight bow.

  “There is no need to stand guard whilst I am within my keep,” he voiced coolly. He slapped his gloves against his leg, trying not to let his anger get the best of him.

  “’Tis a habit,” Ian replied, just as inhospitably with a shrug of his shoulder. “Besides . . . there is always mischief afoot surrounding Amiria.”

  “No harm will befall her as she has me to defend her now.”

  Ian hesitated only momentarily afore he found his voice. “Do you mean to release me then from my vow to protect her?”

  “Aye. She and the other children are now my concern and I will see to their welfare,” Dristan declared, almost daring Ian to challenge him.

  Ian opened his mouth but no sound emitted and he shut his lips with a snap. “I see.”

  Dristan watched a multitude of emotions rush across Ian’s features. ’Twas clear he felt more for the woman he guarded than just being her captain and suddenly it dawned on him just how much Ian cared for Amiria.

  “Bloody hell,” Dristan grunted hoarsely, “you are in love with her!”

  Ian’s crestfallen look spoke for itself. “What is there not to love, my lord?” he asked quietly with a strained smile.

  “This poses somewhat of a difficulty. You have heard Amiria will be my wife, have you not?”

  “’Tis hard not to hear the goings on of the castle gossip, my liege,” Ian answered glumly. “Her parents would not be pleased you have made her nothing more than your whore.”

  “You dare speak to me thusly or are you just a fool, who speaks with no thought to your life?” Dristan roared.

  “’Tis the truth is it not? I, at least, would have made her my lady wife already if only I were more than just a guardsman,” he said gruffly. “Without lands of my own or a title of merit and worth, she is far beyond my reach no matter the feelings I have for her.”

  “You were charged to guard her Ian, not fall in love with her. You should have known nothing good would come from such a situation. Does she know of your feelings for her then?”

  Ian pondered his answer as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, I suppose she does, but that is of no consequence at this point. What is more important is what you feel for her.”

  “’That, Ian, is none of your concern,” Dristan huffed in annoyance.

  “No disrespect intended, my lord, but who else would champion her cause if I do not do so myself? You have made it abundantly clear you care not what others think of her situation by not making her your wife. You may release me from my vow to protect her and my service to you for there is nothing I can do about such an occurrence. But I shall not rest ’til I am sure my lady has been properly wed, and you will care for her along with the other bairn’s,” Ian threatened.

  “You dare much.”

  “Aye, I dare much, my lord! I made a vow to her dying father and will not besmirch his memory by not keeping my word. It means all to me, for I have nothing left but my honor. ’Tis at stake if I do not make every effort to keep my oath made to a man who took his last breath at my feet. Surely you would not ask such of me, or would you?”

  Dristan took in the younger man afore him and had to admire his determination to see Amiria settled and to uphold his honor. As a knight of the realm he understood. He shook his head that he could be so blind in the treatment of the woman he would take to wife.

  “I hear your words, Ian, but tell me this . . . do you plan to just stand aside and watch her wed another? Considering how you feel for her? To be honest, even I myself would find such a task most difficult.”

  Ian sighed and relaxed his stance. “All I ask is that you do what is proper, my lord, and make her a whore no longer. Then, and only then, will I ask you to release me from my pledge of fealty,” he promised calmly. “I love her most deeply, wishing only her happiness, and yet I fear I must leave this place. I do not believe I could endure the torment of seeing her love another.”

  Dristan was surprised at his words. “You believe she loves me then?”

  “Open your eyes, my Lord Dristan, and see what is afore you,” he said. “All the world can see the love she has for you shining in those magnificent eyes of hers.”

  Dristan nodded at Ian’s words as their meaning began to take root inside him and slowly sink in. He patted Ian on the back, cleared his throat, and stood afore Amiria’s door. He knocked for entry. He was not surprised when silence was his only answer.

  “You might as well get used to your patience being tried at every turn, my lord. She is most stubborn or even persuasive when the need arises,” Ian drawled wryly. “I myself would not have her any other way.”

  Dristan glared at the man, ’til Ian laughed smugly and made his way down the passageway, leaving his liege glaring at the solid wood portal. He stared at the loathsome door as if ’twas an enemy to be conquered.

  He grabbed his sword and banged the obnoxious object afore him with its hilt. The sound echoed off the walls, and yet still it stood firmly shut afore him, barring his way from the woman within. ’Twas only the threat he gave her that he would break the wood down if he must that Amiria at last conceded and opened the door.

  Her appearance gave him pause, for she was utterly disheveled. She slowly went to sit afore the fire lit in the hearth, and he swore to himself whilst watching her hands shake. Red puffy eyelids from her tears nearly rivaled the color of her hair. He was not surprised to see her in hose and tunic, although her garments would be beneficial to the outing he had originally had in mind for them this day.

  Amiria began to run her fingers through her glorious mane of hair and quickly made fast work of threading her tresses into a fat braid. With a complete look of disinterest thrown in his direction, she turned back towards the fire, clearly indicating she planned to ignore him.

  Dristan, on the other hand, only leaned upon the doorframe, crossed his arms, and took in the view of perfection that was afore him. Aye, perfect she was for him in every way, and, at last, he could admit that truth if only to himself. He was still unsure if he could trust her as yet with the tender care of his much guarded heart.

  Only the crackling of the fire, as the wood snapped and hissed, broke the deafening silence of the chamber. When Amiria could at last stand it no more, she turned to face the one who had been tormenting her every waking hour. She would not even begin to give way to what agony her dreams gave her during her sleep. It only irritated her further to see a charming grin plastered on his handsome rugged face.

  “Something amuses you?” she inquired sharply.

  “Aye.”

  Ach, she thought; a simple, annoying answer that grated on her already stretched nerves. “I have no desire to have speech with you, or any other for that matter.”

  “That means naug
ht to me for we will have speech together, Amiria, among other things,” he declared knowingly.

  “I think not, my lord. Besides . . . I am in mourning.”

  “Aye, you are in mourning for the lad, and yet Devon would not wish you to grieve for him so,” he drawled grimly.

  “You dare to tell me how I should mourn the loss of my guardsman? Devon died in front of me. I grew up with him. Are you so callous and heartless, Dristan, that you do not mourn him, as well, no matter that he only served you most recently?” she screamed at him.

  “Merde! Amiria, we were ambushed. ’Twas nothing anyone could do,” he thundered. “You yourself were among those soldiers who helped to defend this castle. The price of war is high, Amiria. You know that! Sometimes that price is costly. By Saint Michael’s wings, woman, I should not have to explain this to you.”

  “You could show some remorse, you heartless bastard!”

  He pushed off the doorframe, threw his gloves in frustration upon the bed, and came to stand afore her. “My birthright is not in question here. Aye, I mourn the lad, but in my own way. If I showed such weakness afore my men, I would lose their respect, so I keep those feelings unto myself. You would do well to do the same.”

  Amiria had no words of reply and only continued to stare off into the flames of the fire. ’Twas not ’til he thrust his hand in front of her that she glanced up into his unwavering grey eyes.

  “Come with me,” he commanded.

  She gazed at the proffered limb and felt a weariness overcome her. Not having the energy to fight with him further this day, she could only stare at his hand as if seeing it for the first time.

  “You are a most annoying man,” she proclaimed softly. “Will it always be thusly with us do you suppose?”

  “Aye. I’m afraid ours will be a stormy relationship with a constant battle of wills waged between us,” he said gruffly. “Better that than the alternative of being bored, ma petite!”